Grieving
by daughterofcrayak
Summary: One of the Animorphs mourns for Rachel.
1. I'm hurting . . .

  
A.N. Rachel's death hit me really hard. Besides the fact that she was and still is my favorite character, I have a hard time trusting people   
and making friends, so whenever I felt scared, or weak, or alone, I'd think about what Rachel would do. {I know that she's fictional,   
don't worry, I'm not psychotic. Well, not completely . . . (-_-)}Ownership: 0%  
  
Grieving  
I sat down on a bench at the cemetary, its not too far from my 'home'. It's nice enough. Clean. It has bushes and trees,   
and a pond with a footbridge over it. I gaze at the headstone, it's a few feet away from the pond and the bench. Below it there was no body, only ashes. Her mother hadn't wanted a bear   
in her daughter's grave, so she was cremated. I yawned, it was midnight, so my mind wsa milling around aimlessly. She was too young. She had so much ahead of her. Ok, not really,   
but that was the sleep and all the years of family sitcoms talking. Well is I was in the touchy-feely mode, I decided to enjoy it. Ahem, I warn you that this will get VERY sappy.   
Her dreams were taken away, she could've been a gymnast or a model. Her life, right now Melissa is probably crying. Her friends, Jake never shed a tear, and as far as I know,   
neither did Cassie, Why? I didn't have the answer. While I was thinking, a drop of water hit my hand. I looked up to see if it was raining. Nope, cloudy but not raining. I realized,   
with embarresment, that I was crying. Again. 


	2. I'm revealed

BTW: I have never read #54, ok? SOMEONE spoiled it for me, by writing about it and not admiting that their story had spoilers for #54!! Grrrr. :(  
Ownership: 0%  
Grieving-Part II  
  
  
The wind blew at my face. Some of my tears blew away with it. Um, tears? Did I say tears? Ooops. "Oh man," I groan, trying to ignore the huskiness of my raw voice.   
It's dark, the moon is hidden by clouds. When it peeks out from behind them, I look at my reflection in the pond. A teenage boy with red, swollen eyes looks back.   
I rub at my eyes, but it only makes them appear to be redder. "Good thing it's night-time, that way my flock of devoted admirerers can't see my devilish good looks crying like a baby."   
The joke sounded lame, even to my ears. Then again, all my jokes were lame. SHE said so, in the oh-so-serious-yet-I'm-only-kidding manner only she could have. And here I am, grieving her death.  
I. Me. Marco. Surprised?  



	3. I'm regretting. . .

Ownership: 0%  
Grieving-Part III  
  
I sighed. Why Rachel, I saked my self again and again. It wasn't a surprise, though. I mean we ALL knew that she was reckless.   
The number of times she almost died saving our lives is practically infintesimal. But she nevere cared about atuff like that, at least not in front of us.   
She always fought with all her might, despite any injuries she received. She ignored the fact that she was mortal. I think she really was Xena, reincarnated maybe.  
She was one of the greats, like Joan of Arc, Sir Lancelot, Hercules or David Letterman. You know, the Greats. She wouldn't be forgotten, I'd make sure of that.   
"Hey, Xena," I call out to the eerie stillness surrounding the cemetary, "how many high schools do you want named after you?" Silence.   
  
Now the grief was over, like every night. The confused ramblings of my disturbed, sleep-deprived stopped. Now came the guilt. Oh boy, my favorite part of every evening.  
Had I ever helped her? Not really, though she helped me a lot. When my Dad was almost taken by the Yeerks, she was the only one there. When I was 'dead', the countless times she   
came over with a Dunkaccino or Little Caeser's Deep Dish Pizza. How many times did I call her psychotic or insane, to her face or to her back? Countless. How many times did I   
wimp out of a mission because Xena was there to do it? Like with David. Then I remembered all the fun times we had, with George Edelman and the nuthouse wisecracks; or at the Planted Hollywood.   
I chuckled, the sound brought me out of my reverie. I knew I was being a bit hard on myslef, but I didn't care.  
  
I got up and started to head back home. I couldn't deal with my emotions right now, Jay Leno would fix that, like every night.   
I looked up at the moon. "Hey Xena," I called out in my sore voice," I miss you, I really do." The wind picked up, and I started to jog home, noticing that it was about to rain. In the distance, I heard  
the harsh throaty cry of an eagle. I smirked and continued walking. These nightly visits help me realize one thing, I didn't fear death anymore. I think it's a chance to finally apologize to her.   
"Til tomorrow, Xena" I called out and continue walking home in the rain. The other thing, I wouldn't admit to tomorrow. I wanted to wait until I met her again to tell her about my ture feelings for her.  
Who knew that I was infatuated with Rachel? Not me, not until she died anyway. "'Night."   
  
Rachel a.k.a. Xena Warrior Princess  
R.I.P. 2001  



	4. I'm leaving. . .

P.S. I don't own Little Caeser's or Dunkin' Donuts Dunkacinnos either. (-_-)  
  
HAHA! Got ya! Betcha thought you had another chapter to read, well you don't! So there.  
Excpect upbeat stories from now on, ok? Oh and vereyone who wants to, please pray(if you're religious) for my Gradnpa, he had a seizure and is in the emergemy room.   
Thanks.  
  
THE END 


End file.
